


All These In-Between Times

by Marcia Elena (marciaelena)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2014-04-20
Packaged: 2018-01-20 01:38:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1491970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marciaelena/pseuds/Marcia%20Elena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What keeps them together. What keeps them apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All These In-Between Times

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for andreth47 and her prompt: _after Sam dies in AHBL, he goes to Heaven and Ash meets him_. In my mind this is pre-slash Sam/Dean. And oh, to clarify, NDE=Near-Death Experience.

"Wasn't expectin' you to get here this soon," Ash was saying, sounding like he wasn't too pleased to see him. "Should've known, though. Those black-eyed sons of bitches," he muttered under his breath.

Sam blinked, confused. "What?" He looked around, squinting a little in the glare of the sun. "Where am I?" His limbs felt heavy and he shuffled his feet just to know he could, tucking his hands in his coat pockets and trying to ignore the sick empty hollow in his gut. "Did I- uh, did I get possessed again?"

Instead of answering, Ash said, "Where's Dean? If you're here then he can't be far behind."

"Here where?" Sam asked again, frowning. "And how the hell did I get here?" They were standing in a clearing and he couldn't see anything but the ring of trees around them, bare branches reaching up and up into that unnaturally bright sky. There were no birds, no clouds, no wind or sound stirring the air, nothing that recalled any sense of comfort or familiarity in him. This could be anywhere; it felt like nowhere. 

"That I don't know, man. But I'm bettin' Hell had a hand in it."

"So I _did_ get possessed?" Sam murmured, running his fingers through his hair. "Fuck." He frowned again, trying to dissipate the fog in his brain. "Did I hurt anyone?" he asked in a small voice, afraid of what the answer might be. 

Ash shrugged. "Can't tell you any of that for sure, but it's pretty evident that someone or something hurt _you_."

"What do you mean?"

"You really don't remember." When Sam looked at him expectantly, Ash sighed. "Don't tell me that you of all people never paid attention to the shitload of NDE accounts floatin' around. Long dark tunnel, shiny light at the end," he said, waving his hands in a vague gesture to indicate the space around them.

"NDE? What the hell are you talking about? We're out in the woods," Sam told him, a little more forceful than he should. He pointed down at the ground as he spoke, looking down himself to make sure it was still there, hard-packed soil and desiccated grass, a palette of muted colors. That desolate feeling swelled in his chest, and for a minute he could hardly breathe, the dead silence around them pressing against him like a physical weight. 

"So that's what you're seeing," Ash murmured as he rubbed his chin, mulling over Sam's words. "Mucho interesting."

"Look, man," Sam said, more than a little frustrated, doing his best to keep the dread that was nagging at him at bay. "I'm sure that whatever's going on here's really fascinating, but will you just tell me where we are?"

"Heaven," Ash declared. "The big fiesta in the sky. Haven't been here that long myself, but let me tell you, it's been sweet. All the PBR I can drink and none of the hangover. Free concert every single night," he said, punctuating each word with barely restrained excitement. "Skynyrd did a 20 minute encore of Freebird last night, can you dig that? Fucking epic."

Sam shook his head, taking a step back, wanting nothing more than to distance himself from the truth in Ash's statement.

"'Fraid so, compadre," Ash went on, answering the question that Sam hadn't asked.

"But- no, that can't- how...?" Sam murmured, taking another step away from Ash and stumbling back into a couch that hadn't been there before, sitting down with a startled gasp. Sparks of memory ignited in his brain and he leaned forward, elbows on his knees as he pressed his hands to his face.

Cold Oaks. The sound of his name in the dark and a slicing pain in his back. Strong arms holding him up and a desperate voice in his ear.

"Dean," he breathed, sitting up straight, eyes burning as he faced Ash again. 

"What I been tryin' to tell you, man," Ash said, looking relieved that Sam was finally getting with the program. "How come he ain't here yet?"

"What, you think-? No," Sam rasped, as if by imbuing the word with enough vehemence he could make it sound less like the plea that it really was. 

"I don't think," Ash murmured, thumping his fist against his chest, over his heart. "I _know_."

Sam just frowned at him, feeling lost again. Ash threw his hands up and a second later Sam was sitting at the bar in the Roadhouse and Ash was behind the counter pouring him a beer. "That don't seem to be the case with you so far, but being dead? I'm tellin' you, man, it's one mother of a headrush. Only instead of leavin' you all dizzy and disoriented, everything's clear as crystal."

"So what are you saying?" Sam whispered, telling himself he didn't already know the answer. 

"That brother of yours just won't abide losing you, Sam. _That_ 's what I'm sayin'."

Sam swallowed, feeling more tears well up in his eyes. "But I don't-" He swallowed again, raking his fingers through his hair. "If I'm gone then he should try to carry on. Kill the demon if he can, stop hunting, maybe, and try to build a life for himself. I don't want him doing something stupid, acting reckless just so he can-" He stopped talking, the rest of it stuck in his throat. He didn't want his brother to die, didn't want him consumed by grief. But he wanted Dean there with him so badly that he _ached_ with it. He didn't know how he'd be able to stand the wait; there could be no peace for him until he had his brother back at his side, where he belonged, as close as Sam could have him.

Ash snapped his fingers, smiling at him. "Right track."

Sam huffed out a shaky breath. "So what, you can read minds now?"

"Don't need to. It's all right there on your face." Ash threw his head back, gulping down his beer and burping loudly when he was done. He crushed the can in his hand and tossed it back over his shoulder. "You gotta know Dean feels the same way," he added, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

"Does he?" Sam murmured, his voice coming out strangled, the ache inside him tugging at him. 

"Oh, come on," Ash said, drawing out the Os, hands braced against the counter now. "What did I just tell you? Obvious is obvious, amigo."

Sam just nodded, brushing his thumb against the condensation on his glass, watching the beer inside it fizz. His head was spinning with the revelations of the day, and he could _feel_ it, his longing for Dean expanding with each breath he took, settling in his bones, deeper, reminding every atom in his body that half of who he was had been left behind. He closed his eyes, calling out to his brother with all of his senses, and for an instant he thought he heard him, a sorrow so deep that it rattled him to the core. But just like that it was gone, and though Sam kept trying until he was trembling with the strain and _Dean_ became a prayer in his mind, there was no answer. It was as quiet inside the saloon as it had been outside, and Sam thought it was crazy that he could hear his heartbeat, loud and frantic in his ears when he was supposed to be dead. 

The silence stretched too long and thin, and Sam cleared his throat, raising his gaze to look at Ash. "So how-" he started, pausing to take a deep breath too. "I mean, how did you-?"

"Got trapped inside the Roadhouse when it burned down," Ash told him, doing a whole body shake. "Not the way I would've picked to go."

The mention of fire made Sam shiver. "The Roadhouse? When?" he asked, frowning. "We didn't hear about that." He swallowed as a thought occurred to him. "Jo and Ellen-"

"Weren't there," Ash finished for him, opening a second can of PBR. "'Bout a month ago. Demons did it."

"A month? We just talked to you not three weeks ago."

Ash considered that for a second. "Guess time moves different up here." He took a sip of his beer. "Makes sense." 

Sam nodded, trying to work out in his head what that meant for him and Dean. "For what it's worth, man, I'm sorry you got killed," he told Ash a moment later. "But how did you know I was coming? And how come there wasn't anyone else there when I arrived? No offense, but if you were there then why wasn't my mom, or Jess?" 

"Not how it works. But me, well, been listenin' real close since I got here, and there's been a whole lot of whisperin' lately."

"Whispering?" Sam asked. "What do you mean?"

"What do you think I mean? Them angels, man, they never stop blabbin'."

"Angels. Really?" Sam murmured, a note of wonder creeping into his voice. "You've seen them? Talked to them?" 

"Can't say that I have. And I ain't fluent in Enochian just yet either, but I've got a good enough grasp of it that I could tell something big was about to go down. Then I wake up this morning and the whole damn place is resonatin' with angel-talk. Wasn't hard to find out where to wait. I just didn't know _you_ 'd be the one comin' through." The way Ash looked at Sam then sent another shiver through him. "Haven't fully figured out what's goin' on here, I mean, those boys invented cryptic. But now I'm wonderin' if Dean's not comin' and I'm tellin' you, man, that's not the way it should be." 

Sam meant to reply, but an acute migraine doubled him over and he forgot what he'd wanted to say, groaning instead with the pain, reaching blindly for the counter and spilling his beer. Noises filled his head, an eerie susurration at first, then a high-pitched tone that went on and on and vibrated through his entire being, so invasive and shrill that his own moans sounded muffled to him. The blaring ceased and Sam collapsed against the bar, panting and dizzy, his ears still ringing. But his relief didn't last long; a crushing force pinned him down, pushing the breath out of him and squeezing his insides. 

"Shit, Dean," he heard Ash say. "You stupid son of a bitch."

"What?" Sam forced through gritted teeth, raising his head with an effort, looking at Ash through the blur of tears in his eyes. The interior of the Roadhouse seemed brighter than it had been before and he blinked, trying to clear his vision. But the walls were shimmering now, _Ash_ was shimmering, glowing with a golden-white light that made shadows dance at the edge of Sam's vision. 

Ash shook his head, his voice sounding mournful and remote. "I'm sorry, Sam. I really am. This definitely ain't right."

"What," Sam tried again. Pure agony shot through him and his arm slipped from the counter; he knocked his stool over as he fell down, clutching his middle and writhing on the floor. The sensation of falling didn't stop, only seemed to intensify, and when a hole opened up under him and he was swallowed by darkness, Sam experienced a moment of perfect, horrific understanding. 

"Dean," he cried out. 

_Dean_.


End file.
